What are the odds?

By Jay Ashley / Times-News

Published: Friday, September 6, 2013 at 03:38 PM.

I can add to that: You don’t get something for everything, either.

I was a pretty fair baseball player, so why couldn’t I knock those milk bottles over with a baseball or knock those fuzzy creatures off a shelf? I was a good shot with a rifle, so why couldn’t I knock over a duck in the shooting gallery or put a BB in the center of a target just scant feet away? I was a pretty good pool shooter, so why couldn’t I knock a ball into the pocket of a pool table or put a basketball through a hoop? Why couldn’t I fill a balloon with a water pistol faster than the kid down at the end of the line? How come when I pulled a string attached to premium prizes I got a plastic ruler and that other guy got a stuffed animal as large as a baby yak?

Well, of course the answer lies in the sad fact that those games were rigged. The sights on the rifle were skewed, the pool tables were cockeyed, the vendors were crooked. It became an expensive lesson to learn.

After having been burnt so many times, I tried to instill in my daughter the sense of right, wrong and to never bet on anything. Did it work? Well, she lived in Las Vegas for a time and to this day if you take her to a roulette wheel, she will use a most complicated betting system that is most impressive to watch. She’s putting money on red and black and odd and even and insurance green. She might not win, but she looks like she knows what she’s doing.

I think it’s my fault, too. When she was a child, I took her to the county fair and she got hooked on the “cow flop” game. For the uninitiated, the cow flop or chicken drop game is pretty much like a roulette table layout with a non-potty-trained domesticated beast wandering around to drop a No. 2 on your lucky number.

She was amazed at the concept and begged a dollar from me. Once she bought her “lucky” spot, she was glued to the corral.

First of all, congratulations to Diana Nyad. Just over two years ago, the 64-year-old woman stepped into the Cuban surf to attempt a record swim to Key West, Fla. After two hours, her shoulder began to seize up.

She didn’t quit.

Then came the asthma attacks.

She didn’t quit.

Then came the vomiting and treading water, boat troubles, storms, unfavorable currents and jellyfish stings which left her face puffy and swollen.

She quit.

At that time, she admitted her endeavor was a “fairy tale that didn’t come true.”

This past Monday, on her final attempt, Nyad came ashore on a beach at Key West, becoming the first person to swim from Cuba to Florida without the aid of a shark cage. Her message to everyone was to never, ever give up on your dreams, even if it means you end up sunburned, dazed and immediately placed on a stretcher with an IV jammed into your arm.

From someone who can’t complete a lap mowing his own yard without stopping, I salute the plucky Nyad. I would never have bet against her.

Well, I wouldn’t have bet for her, either.

I don’t bet.

I love to bet. I’m just lousy at it. I don’t have the skill to know how to bet or the good sense to know when to quit. To me a “sure thing” means that if I bet, I’m sure to lose my house, my car, my lifetime savings and will reside in a pup tent the remainder of my life.

How much money did I squander as a student at the state fair trying to win a kewpie doll or teddy bear from every game on the midway?

“You don’t get something for nothing,” was sound advice from my father.

I can add to that: You don’t get something for everything, either.

I was a pretty fair baseball player, so why couldn’t I knock those milk bottles over with a baseball or knock those fuzzy creatures off a shelf? I was a good shot with a rifle, so why couldn’t I knock over a duck in the shooting gallery or put a BB in the center of a target just scant feet away? I was a pretty good pool shooter, so why couldn’t I knock a ball into the pocket of a pool table or put a basketball through a hoop? Why couldn’t I fill a balloon with a water pistol faster than the kid down at the end of the line? How come when I pulled a string attached to premium prizes I got a plastic ruler and that other guy got a stuffed animal as large as a baby yak?

Well, of course the answer lies in the sad fact that those games were rigged. The sights on the rifle were skewed, the pool tables were cockeyed, the vendors were crooked. It became an expensive lesson to learn.

After having been burnt so many times, I tried to instill in my daughter the sense of right, wrong and to never bet on anything. Did it work? Well, she lived in Las Vegas for a time and to this day if you take her to a roulette wheel, she will use a most complicated betting system that is most impressive to watch. She’s putting money on red and black and odd and even and insurance green. She might not win, but she looks like she knows what she’s doing.

I think it’s my fault, too. When she was a child, I took her to the county fair and she got hooked on the “cow flop” game. For the uninitiated, the cow flop or chicken drop game is pretty much like a roulette table layout with a non-potty-trained domesticated beast wandering around to drop a No. 2 on your lucky number.

She was amazed at the concept and begged a dollar from me. Once she bought her “lucky” spot, she was glued to the corral.

“Let’s go ride the swings and come back,” I implored.

“No, I don’t want to miss it if the cow goes on my spot,” she insisted.

So, we stayed at the flop fest for a couple of hours before Bossie deposited on someone else’s grid.

“Let’s do it again,” she begged.

“I don’t think Bossie will be doing any more No. 2s any time soon, honey,” I tried to explain.

“Dad, you never know,” she remained enthusiastic.

I read this week that the Catawba Indian Nation is angling to build a casino down on the state line near Kings Mountain. The Catawbas have reservations in York County, S.C., but Gov. Nikki Haley isn’t high on the idea of a casino in her state.

Political strategists say if the Catawbas can persuade North Carolina Gov. Pat McCrory to go for a deal to allow them to run dice, card games and one-armed bandits right under Gov. Haley’s nose, maybe they can create a change of heart and get South Carolina to relent and allow a casino on their own happy hunting grounds.

We all know that every town, city and state in the country is playing the incentives gambling game these days, and a casino promises big bucks. It promises lots of employment dollars, tourist dollars, sales tax dollars, hotel dollars, food and beverage dollars and gambling addiction program dollars.

It’s 2-to-1 it won’t happen. Want in on that action?

Jay Ashley is managing editor of the Times-News. His bones creak, not roll, at jashley@thetimesnews.com